Page 23 of Taming Her Beast


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“Garry, this wasn’t me,” Millie says.

“Then who was it?” the man grumbles, glancing at me briefly, standing protectively at her shoulder, before turning fully to her. “Because it looks pretty suspicious, don’t it, seeing as it’s your name? Do you have any idea how much this mess is gonna cost?”

“I don’t know,” Millie whispers.

“You don’t know?” her boss says, gesturing with his free hand as though he’s going to grab at her.

I step forward, only slightly, and shake my head at him in a subtle way. His eyes flit to me and he recoils, as though he’s realized he’s in a cage with a wild jaguar. I don’t want to hurt this man – bullying has never appealed to me – but the idea of him laying his hands on my woman makes me sick.

“Your name’s written in glass and paint, I’m out of business for a whole goddamn day, and you’ve got no explanation for me?”

I glance at Millie, wondering if she’ll tell him about Finn. I won’t blame her if she doesn’t. But I’m ready to accept whatever she decides.

“No,” Millie says. “I’m sorry, Garry. Really. Are you going to fire me?”

“You haven’t put me in a great position here,” he huffs. “In any case, you ain’t working today. I’ll call you, alright?”

He turns without waiting for a response.

Millie lets out a shaky sigh and turns, looking around at all the Stone Harbor folk, many of them blatantly watching. I realize what she’s doing after a moment.

Searching the crowd for any sign of this Finn Marston bastard.

I stay close to her, ready to spring into action the second she aims her finger at somebody and says him.

She turns to me, shaking her head subtly.

“Wanna get out of here?” I say.

She smiles slightly. “Yeah, I thought you’d never ask.”

I reach down and take her hand, not caring if they want to gape. Let them look. She’s my woman and I’m not ashamed of it. I’ll never shy away from staying loyal to her, from letting her know she doesn’t have to go through life alone.

She flinches, and for a terror-filled second I know I’ve made a mistake.

But then her smile widens and she gives my hand a squeeze.

“I thought I overstepped the mark back there,” I say, my voice gruff, maybe a little defensive. “Holding your hand, I mean.”

We walk toward my Chevy, hand in hand, like a real goddamn couple.

I’ve known her less than a week.

And I don’t care.

I don’t give a single solitary fuck.

“No, it’s not that,” she says, climbing into the car next to me. “It’s just I was starting to wonder if you’d even want to be with me still, I guess.”

“Because of the virgin thing?”

She swivels on me, giving me a no-shit look.

I chuckle. “Fair enough. But you need to know that you being a virgin only makes me want you more.”

“Really?” she whispers.

“Really,” I snarl. “Now I get to claim you, just for me. Now my jealous possessive ass knows that nobody else has ever touched you.”

“I must be all kinds of messed up,” she says, her cheeks flaming red as she reaches across and places her hand on my arm.

“What do you mean?”

“Well jealous and possessive are supposed to be bad traits, right? But when you say it, I don’t know, I get all tingly and warm.”

I growl like a savage, like any second I’m going to go full werewolf and strain at my skin, sprout fangs and goddamn horns and God knows what else. I’ve never felt my life essence surging so close to the surface of my being before, ready to erupt and blaze through me, ready to dominate me like I want – need – to dominate my woman.

“Can we get out of here?” Millie whispers, waving a hand at the parking lot.

I start the engine and back us out of the lot, driving down Main Street, meaning to head through the forest and back toward Jackie’s house.

“Where are you going?” she asks.

I listen to the uncertainty in her voice, sense that she’s not quite ready to go home yet. Then I turn to the car to the side of the road, beneath the spiky pine leaves.

“Where do you want to go?” I ask.

She wrings her hands together. “I don’t know,” she murmurs. “I want to—you know. But I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“I can wait,” I say, though there’s a choked, carnal quality to my voice.

“Really?” she murmurs.

“Really,” I say with an effort, my seed swelling and surging inside of me, roaring at me to tell her that until I’m buried balls deep inside of her I’m going to be a madman.

But that’s not fair. She’s my woman, all of her, and no part of me would ever want to pressure her into something.

“I will be,” she says. “Maybe soon. Just not …”

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